AWA
by LJL
Summary: ABANDONED. The early adventures of Craig, a vampire killer who attends the American Wizard's Academy in Michigan. Implements elements and some characters of Buffy, Angel, and Harry Potter. Prequel to Slayers and Sixth Years.
1. Chapter 1

I don't know how many people really wanted to see this…but here it is. This is the story of Craig, my OC from the story Slayers and Sixth Years. This story acts as a prequel to that one. It explains Craig and his origins, fleshing out the back story given in the previous story. Please note that I'm not writing his entire experience at the AWA – that would take an obscene amount of time. Instead, this story will be selected scenes from his time there.

PART 1 – Adjustment

A pair of evil yellow eyes glowed dimly in the bushes. The vampire was hungry; it had been three days since his last meal, and he was starting to feel deprived. The hill top was a great place for feeding, but the vampires in town had an unspoken agreement to avoid the place except when necessary. They didn't want to dry up the food supply too much.

The vampire moved from the bushes, tracking the scent of human. It was strong tonight. Couples, of course, thought the vampire. The view here made it a popular spot for couples. The vampire smiled. He'd enjoyed it here, too, when he'd been human. Then his girlfriend had brought him here and made him a demon.

The smile widened. He was getting closer. The smell was incredibly strong now. He stopped. He was there. A small clearing, darkened from the lack of moonlight.

There was no one there.

The vampire shook his head in confusion. It couldn't understand…where were the snacks?

From his branch in the tree, eleven-year-old Craig shook his head in humorless amusement. He swung down quickly and, before the vampire could even turn, dusted it. As the dust scattered to the winds, Craig brushed off his hands and put his stake back into his pocket.

"Very good, kid," said a voice. Craig turned.

"Thanks, Whistler," Craig said. He smiled. "Not bad, huh?"

"He didn't even see you," Whistler said. "That's something. And its good to see you thinking with your head – that hormone spray attracted him like fly's to shit. Come on, I'm starved."

Craig grinned at Whistler. The demon had a strange sense of humor. It also had a strange stomach which seemed to require fast food every three hours. Craig knew that not to be true – when they'd been in Quor-toth, Whistler had eaten the same food he had. Craig shuddered. He'd liked parts of Quor-toth – the voices seemed less confused there – but he had hated the food. He had also hated being alone, for Whistler had only stayed for a couple of hours.

Craig thought rarely of Quor-toth. It was part of his history – no more. He liked history, but he didn't want to obsess over it.

"What's your deal tonight?" Whistler asked. He'd undoubtedly noticed Craig's deep thoughts. "You're not paying too much attention to them again, are you?"

Craig shook his head. As per usual, the fight, though incredibly minor, had distracted him from the voices. They were still there, but he didn't have to put up with them. "No," he said. "Actually, I was thinking of Quor-toth."

Whistler sighed. "Quor-toth, huh? Why that?"

Craig shook his head. "No particular reason," he said.

They entered the restaurant, a Sub Way, and placed their orders. They sat, waiting for the food. "Craig, I have something to talk to you about."

Craig looked for the joke, because Whistler was so often trying to press humor on him, but the demon's face was all business. "What?" Craig asked.

Whistler cleared his throat. "Craig, things have been happening," he began, but couldn't seem to figure out what to say after that.

Craig attempted be light. "Isn't that what things usually do?"

Whistler nodded, missing the humor entirely, which worried Craig. "Yeah," he said. "They do. But not like this. You know that place I've been saying your going to go to?"

Craig nodded. "Sunnydale," he said.

"That's the one," Whistler said. "You were going to be replacing someone. But…that's fallen through. They don't need a replacement."

Craig's brain took a moment to process that. A millisecond later, the voices started screaming, and Craig's eyes rolled back into his head.

_"That can't be right!" He shouted. The room spun._

_"I want to get a tattoo, Dad, and there is nothing you can do to stop me!" The room spun._

_"Dear, I'm not sure about this surgery." The room spun. The darkness shimmered, glowing without light._

_"Oh, God, look out!"_

"Craig!" Whistler said, shaking the boy slightly. "Craig, come out of it!"

Craig's eyes returned to the front, where they belonged. He groaned. Apparently, Whistler had dragged him out into the alley when he'd started going schizo.

"How long?" Craig asked.

"Ten minutes, now," Whistler said, breathing an audible sigh of relief. "It's been a while since you've had such a long one."

Craig rubbed his temples. "I guess that when you said that, I lost control and a couple of people decided to relive their deaths."

Whistler looked sympathetically at Craig. "I'm sorry, Craig," he said, "but there was no easy way to break that one to you."

Craig nodded, understanding. "I suppose that it's hard to tell someone that the only thing they've been raised for just disappeared."

Whistler looked sick. "That was not the only thing you were raised for! Come on, let's get some food in you. Our orders must be up by now."

They walked back inside, Craig being supported slightly by Whistler. As he had predicted, their subs were ready, but they were now receiving some strange looks from everyone. Craig, who was at least partially used to this as a boy who heard voices, ignored them.

Whistler put down his sub and promptly ignored it. "Craig, I really hope that you don't believe that I raised you for one thing only," Whistler said. He was obviously conflicted.

"Then why else did you raise me?" Craig asked.

There it was. The big question. 'Why do I exist?' Craig had always wondered about it. He could hear the voices of millions of dead people – many had never found their purpose in life, and many had. None of them had ever managed to convey to him what it was truly meant to find one's purpose in life. Then again, he couldn't remember ever having been truly helped by the voices.

Whistler used this pause to consider the question. "You have a lot of potential, kid," he said. "We've always known how great a person you can be. And that doesn't mean just fighting. You're good for that too, but I mean other stuff. Really helping people, on a personal level. We knew that you were worth raising."

"The Powers knew," Craig said.

"Yeah," Whistler admitted. "But I found out first hand."

Craig grinned. "Thanks, Whistler," he said.

Whistler nodded. "Don't mention it, kid," he said, returning to his usual nonchalance. "Now, though, we've got some big decisions to make. That is, you've got some big decisions to make."

Craig looked up from his food, which, by this time, was half gone, whereas Whistler still hadn't touched his. "What do you mean?"

Whistler shifted. "Kid, you've just had your future handed to you," he said. "You can go anywhere, do anything."

He seemed to be greatly uncomfortable still. "What is it?" Craig asked.

Whistler put a hand into his jacket and withdrew an envelope. "At first, I didn't know why this came," he said. "But it's yours, and I think that was the whole point."

Craig reached out and took the envelope. It was clearly addressed to him, though the address was empty.

"I have no idea how that was delivered," Whistler said. "It was simply there when I woke up a couple days ago."

Craig nodded, turning the envelope over in his hands. He ripped it open and read:

AMERICAN WIZARDS ACADEMY 

Marcus Joseph, Headmaster

Dear Craig,

You have been accepted to the American Wizard's Academy. Congratulations. Enclosed is a list of necessary supplies. Regardless of your decision on coming to our school, we await your owl by no later than July 30th.

Lawrence Siroplemen, Head of Admissions

Whistler took the letter from Craig and read. "Hmm," he said. "AWA, huh? They're the best in this hemisphere."

"I don't understand," Craig said.

"It's a school of magic," Whistler explained. "They teach all the finer points of wizardry."

Craig took this in and reread the letter. "Why would I bother with it?" he asked.

Whistler laughed. "Well, kid, you have the magic. And there's obviously a lot about it we don't understand. They could help you to understand it a bit better. And it would mean that you would get the best education this dimension has to offer."

Craig mulled it over a bit. "I'm not sure," he said. "I don't really have anything else to do, so I guess I'll go…"

His nonchalance came from Whistler almost directly. Whistler realized it then, when Craig decided his future with a brush off phrase. He grinned.

"Okay, then," he said. "We'll need to get you some supplies, and then its off to school."

Craig was done with his sub. "What are we waiting for?" he asked.

A day later he found out what they'd been waiting for. Craig had led a life sheltered from the particulars of civilization – that is, crowds. Finding himself amongst so many people all of a sudden was a shock.

Whistler had brought Craig into Denver to purchase school supplies. At first, Craig hadn't had a clue where they were going. Then, a half hour of walking later, he still didn't.

"Whistler?" he asked. "Are you lost?"

"Course not," Whistler replied. "I know it's around here somewhere."

He stopped walking, causing Craig to stop suddenly to avoid running into him. The people behind them didn't have such good reflexes, though – the lead woman crashed directly into Craig, spilling her things everywhere.

"Oooh, I'm sorry," Craig said, aghast at what he had caused. "Here, let me get that for you."

"Oh, don't worry about it, dear," said the woman. "They're only a few vegetables; I've got them. And I should have had better reflexes there, don't you know." She winked at him. A moment later, she had picked up her things and moved on.

Craig was at a loss. He poked Whistler in the back. "What was that all about?" he asked.

Whistler turned away from his search to address Craig. "What was what all about?" he asked.

"That woman," Craig said. "I caused her an inconvenience, and she just shrugged it off like it was nothing."

Whistler shrugged himself and returned to his search. "Then it was nothing…" he said. "Ah, here it is!"

He was staring at a sewage drain.

Whistler bent down over it, watched by a somewhat skeptical Craig, and tapped on the drain in an elaborate pattern. "Step on top of it, Craig," Whistler said. Craig obeyed.

The second he did, the entire scene changed. Craig did a double take. The Denver street had disappeared entirely.

In its place was a winding street, packed side to side with people, and lined with stores. Craig took a step forward, looking around in awe as he went. "Where are we?" he asked.

"This is Faquep," Whistler explained. "Kind of a wizard's mall, in a strange way. It's about twenty miles underground, deeper than the sewers and the subways." He indicated upwards, and Craig took note of the fact that there was a ceiling of rock about eighty feet above them.

"All of these people are wizards?" Craig asked, hitching up the empty backpack.

"Yep…now, we've got to get started. Lets go."

They strode quickly down onto the busy street. Craig found it increasingly difficult to keep track of Whistler. The boy was getting to despise crowds.

Shopping for books was simple enough; the bookstore wasn't crowded. They were in and out in under ten minutes. After that, they picked up a cauldron at Marming's Potion Supply Depot, and instructed the employee's to mail the cauldron to the AWA. A half hour into their shopping, Whistler checked the list. He whistled softly.

"They've changed the traditional dress code," he said. "I wonder when that happened? Oh, well. We need to get you a school work outfit."

"What is it?" Craig asked, fearing the answer a bit. He hated restrictive clothing, and the robes he'd been seeing all day would probably get him killed in a fight.

"A pair of black trousers, a black sweater, and black shoes," Whistler read off. "Cheery folks. Are you supposed to be going to a funeral or a school?"

The clothing supplier was moderately full of kids looking for school clothes. Upon seeing the happily chatting children, Whistler was struck by an idea. "Hey, kid," he said. "Why don't you go socialize while I talk to the proprietor about this change in the dress code?"

He started towards the counter. Craig was in front of him in a flash, a look of mortal dread on his face. "Socialize?" he asked, becoming nearly hysterical. "Socialize? I don't socialize!"

Whistler smiled. "Calm down," he said. "Just say hello. Get to know a few of your classmates."

"And what do I say when they ask me about myself?" he asked.

Whistler halted. He looked at the kids, then at Craig. The boy had a valid point. That he was a vampire killer who could hear the voices of the dead would be hard to swallow, even for a bunch of children who had just been accepted into a wizarding academy.

"Uh…" Whistler said. "Yeah…maybe you ought to stick with me."

Craig's look of terror diminished. He sighed, muttering something about a 'close one'. Whistler didn't like the sound of that at all, but he kept his mouth shut.

They approached the counter. A middle-aged man sat behind it, smiling around at the kids who were trying on clothes, helped by store employees. "Can I help you?" the man asked, pleasantly.

"Yeah," Whistler said, leaning on the counter. "What's up with the new dress code?"

The man smiled. "It was just instituted last year, by Dean Yeager. Says he wants to start modernizing the school."

Whistler didn't press the matter. "I'd like to get a uniform for Craig, here," he said.

The man smiled down at Craig. "First time into Faquep with dad, huh?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm not his dad," Whistler said. "I adopted him. Now, the uniform…?"

"Right this way," the man said, choosing to ignore the slightly hurt look on Craig's face from when Whistler had said that he was not the boy's father.

The man led Craig into a back room, with several small stools. He directed Craig up onto one and began taking his measurements.

As this was being done, Craig examined the room. There was one other student getting his uniform measurements done, but he didn't seem aware of Craig's presence; his nose was too far up into the air.

Craig recalled Whistler's insisting on socialization and shuddered a bit. He supposed the thing was unavoidable; he couldn't spend the next few years of school secluding himself from everyone.

Oh, this decision really had changed his life!

Craig finally decided that it would be easier to 'socialize' here, rather than out in the crowd, and with this decision came action. "Hello," Craig said, using every inch of his bravery to force the words out.

The boy didn't respond.

Craig shook his head, confused. Wasn't he being loud enough? "Hello," he said again, this time louder. Again, there was no response from the boy.

Craig lost his patience in a hurry. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" he said. "The least you could do is respond!"

Finally, the kid turned his head to towards Craig and looked down his nose. "What?" he asked.

Now that he had the kid's attention, Craig didn't have a clue what to do with it. "Uh…" he said. "Well…my name is Craig…what's yours?"

The other raised an eyebrow. "Craig?" he asked. "Craig who?"

Now Craig was a bit confused. "Craig who?" he asked. "What do you mean, Craig who?"

"What's your last name?" the other asked, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Craig is my last name," he said. "It's also my first name. I've only got one."

"Are you for real?" the other kid asked.

"Well, yeah," Craig said. "What, do I seem fake?"

The attendant who was measuring the other boy told him he was done. The boy climbed quickly down and made to go. "Wait!" Craig said. "You didn't tell me your name!"

The other boy turned. "If you don't already know it, then there's no point telling you," he said. "You'll be hearing it soon enough."

He left.

Craig was finished shortly as well, and left the measurements room for the lobby. There, he found Whistler waiting for him. "All done?" Whistler asked. Then he noticed Craig's expression. "What's the matter, kid?"

Craig looked around the room for the boy, but didn't find him. "I tried to socialize," he said.

Whistler grinned at him. "Excellent! How'd it go?"

Craig looked at him. "Right…stupid question," he said. "Why else would you look so gloomy? Hey, don't worry about it. There are plenty of other kids to get to know."

The attendant came out from the other back room carrying Craig's clothing. He put it in a bag, Whistler paid for it, and he and Craig left the store.

"Were you ever a kid, Whistler?" Craig asked, as they headed through the center of the street.

"Not in the same sense as you," Whistler said. "I was young, sure – everyone is at some point – but I've always had this body, and I never had to go to school."

"Lucky…" Craig said.

Whistler didn't jump on that one, though he could have easily convinced Craig of the downsides of an eternal fight against evil.

"Where are we going next?" Craig asked.

"Lunch!" Whistler said, steering the younger boy towards a café. The unspoken closure to the statement was, without a doubt, "Where else?"

Craig reviewed the latest letter from the AWA with a dubious look. Upon receiving his return letter, the school had sent him a short note telling him how, exactly, he was to reach the school.

Whistler had already seen to it that Craig's larger possessions – his cauldron and his textbooks, which were fairly hefty – had all been sent forward in advance, to avoid clutter.

So it was that Craig stood in the middle of a pizza parlor near the heart of Denver. The letter from the AWA had been explicit enough; sit in the seat facing the window at Table 13 at exactly 8:47 PM, and he would be transported to…well, the letter didn't say where, exactly the pizza parlor seat was going to send him.

Craig glanced up from his letter at Whistler, who occupied the other seat at the table, and who was currently crunching on the crust of a slice of pizza. "Hmm," he said, philosophically. "Not bad. I'll have to come back here." He glanced down at the watch he wore on his wrist. "Only two more minutes until you're gone, kid."

"Whistler," Craig began, and the demon put down his crust to give the boy his full attention. "What are you going to do without me around?"

Whistler laughed. "You're going to have to watch the blunt comments around other students, Craig," he said. "And I'm sure I'll find something to do with my immortality once you're off learning magic."

Craig sat in silence for the remainder of the two minutes. Whistler was as close as Craig had ever had to a father; even thus, he felt no great sorrow in leaving the demon, since part of Craig's training had always included surviving by himself, sometimes for long stretches of time. And there was that lingering doubt that Whistler would have even bothered with Craig if it hadn't been for Craig's potential.

That potential stemmed from the voices, of course. The things would have driven him crazy very early in life if he hadn't managed to find ways to shut them out. One of the most effective ways of ignoring the voices was martial arts. Since any lapse in his training resulted in a maddening, and hard to control, flood of voices, Craig was more focused than any child in history.

Craig had gotten lost in his thoughts. When he realized that, he realized something else, too. He wasn't in the pizza parlor anymore. Instead, Craig stood in a small alcove, set into what he soon realized to be a long wall of alcoves. In most of them, people were appearing at a rapid rate. They were all kids.

His classmates, Craig realized.

Craig turned from the alcove to find out where, exactly he was. He was in a huge, cavernous room, around which were hundreds of the alcoves from which he'd just stepped. He shook his head…he was dizzy…a second later, his head cleared. Around him, his classmates were undergoing a similar process. Several of them stumbled and fell.

A minute or two later, as soon as the students had been given sufficient time to orient themselves, a voice, magically magnified, resounded throughout the room. "All new students, please report from the arrival hall to the Main Hall."

_And just where in the hell is that?_ Craig thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud. A door at one end of the room had suddenly been illuminated. Shrugging to himself, he headed for the door.

At about the same time, the other students began filing to the door as well. Though it was a bit of a mess at first, it formed into a line quickly.

Craig, who'd seemed fairly confident a moment before, here faltered. The clump of people attempting to get out the door was terrifying. Craig hung back and waited for the room to drain of people before he excited the door himself.

What he found outside was breathtaking. There was flat terrain all around him, except for a fairly large clump of trees. However, after about four hundred yards or so, all the terrain (and the trees) just stopped. It was like this all around. It took Craig a second to realize that he was standing on a huge plateau that was obviously very high up.

Leaving the cavernous arrival building behind, Craig followed the light markers on the ground to the central building complex. The buildings themselves were amazing. They seemed to make no logical sense; gravity here was obviously not working properly.

Craig entered the building…

You know…it's taken me several months just to finish this first chapter. FYI…this story is going to skip large amounts of time between each chapter. After all, it's telling the story of seven years of Craig's life…if I went into too much detail it'd be wicked freaking long and would take several years to write – and really, who wants that? Please, R&R, because that's what keeps me writing. Bunker shorts be with you.


	2. Chapter 2

"Class dismissed," the teacher said. "Craig, hold on, I want to talk to you."

The rest of the class filed out, most ignoring Craig. Craig was grateful; even after three months of school, he was still not keen on becoming a "social creature".

As soon as the other students were gone, Craig approached the teacher's desk. "What is it, Mr. Polanski?" he asked.

Mr. Polanski regarded him as though he didn't know quite how to put what was on his mind. "Craig, I've heard that you don't have many friends," he said.

Craig said nothing. He was confused. What did Mr. Polanski, his Charms teacher, have to do with his lack of a social life?

Seeing that he wasn't going to get a rise out of Craig with just that, Polanski continued. "I'm just a bit concerned, Craig," he said. "You've been at school for three months, and you don't appear to have made any friends. That's not…normal."

"Well, Mr. Polanski, I'm not normal," Craig said, sincerely.

"I…know," Polanski replied, haltingly. He was obviously thrown by that. "It's just that…well, here you can have a normal life…if you want it."

The words sounded pitiful even to Craig, whose experience with uncomfortable social situations was comparable to a dried out slug.

"I like my life," Craig said, but at the same time, he wondered if he was telling the truth.

"Well, that's good," Polanski said. Seeing that his inspirational talk had done no good, and was only serving to make him seem more and more like a fool, he quickly ushered Craig out of the room.

Craig walked down the hall of the AWA's primary academic level. It was on this level that he spent most of his time; here, and in his private room. He understood that most of the students had to room with other students; however, due to his…special circumstances…he was given his own room. He was grateful for this.

"Hey, you!" he heard a voice from behind him say. Craig turned.

"What?" he asked.

"Did Polanski give you any trouble? He can be really over sentimental sometimes…" the boy, who was now caught up to Craig, said.

"Um…no, he didn't give me any trouble…" Craig said, stumbling a bit over his words. Memories of his attempts at socializing with the boy in the shop came bubbling up, as did a number of irate dead people. He quashed both.

"Oh…okay," the other boy said, and went to leave, looking a bit dejected.

"Wait!" Craig said.

The other boy stopped and looked at him, and Craig was now confronted with the fact that he had no idea what to say.

"Uh…um…" he said, his brain racing to find something to say.

"Yes?"

"You want to get something to eat?" Craig asked, the words spewing quickly from his mouth. Craig wryly thought of how being brought up by Whistler still shown through.

"Okay," the boy said. "My name is Hiram. What's yours?"

"I'm Craig," said Craig.

"Pleased to meet you!" Hiram said.

They began walking. "So…are you Muggle born, or were your parents wizards?" Hiram asked.

"I never knew my parents," Craig said. "They died when I was very young."

"Oh!" Hiram said, looking a bit crestfallen. "I'm sorry! I didn't know…"

Craig gave him a curious look. "Well, of course you didn't know," he said. "Why else would you have asked?"

Now it was Hiram's turn to give Craig a funny look. "Are you serious?" he asked.

Craig's mind turned back to the shop. "Uh…yes?" he said, in a small voice. He was relieved when Hiram's laugh was friendly.

"You're a strange guy," he said.

Craig halted briefly as they turned the corner. He shook his head. "You don't know the half of it," he said.

The AWA cafeteria (called the AWACS, AWA Cafeteria/Sanctuary by anyone who knew enough about muggle aircraft to find the acronym funny) was a grossly out of place, _normal_ seeming room in an otherwise bizarre set of buildings. Though Craig had no actual experience with school cafeterias, he quickly learned from Hiram that this one looked and seemed no different from those he had attended before coming to the AWA.

"I'm muggle born, but I suppose that's obvious," Hiram said. To Craig, it wasn't, but he didn't say anything, not wanting to compromise his new friendship. "I went to school in New York for five years before I got my letter for the AWA."

"That's interesting," said Craig, and to him, it was; he was eager to learn about this "normal life" that Mr. Polanski had spoken of.

Hiram gave Craig another odd look. "You find the weirdest things interesting," he said. "I mean, that's about as average as you can get. What's so interesting about it?"

"The fact that it's average is what is interesting to me," Craig said. "I have no experience with average."

Hiram didn't know what to make of that. "Uh…okay," he said. "Well, this is hardly the place to be learning about "average"."

"Why is that?" Craig asked, his childlike sincerity shining through.

"Well, it's a magic school," Hiram said, as though that explained it. When Craig continued to seem lost, he continued. "This is one of the strangest places in this hemisphere. If you don't know much about normal…you should fit right in."

Craig had his doubts about that.

That night, as Craig headed back to his private dorm room, Hiram met him on the stairs. "Hey, weirdo," Hiram said.

Craig cast Hiram an apprehensive look. "Hello," he said, quickly, and looked down, focusing on the stairs. The voice of a dead mother welled up, but Craig pushed it back.

"Damn, kid, you need to relax a little," Hiram said. "You know, stop being so uptight. I was only kidding."

"Oh," Craig said. "Yes, kidding. I know kidding. I don't do it often though."

"Well, you should try it," Hiram said, "Good way to relieve stress. And speaking of relieving stress…" Hiram cast a wary glance around to see if they were being listened to. "Some of the older kids are going into Wolf Point tonight to hit the clubs…wanna tag along?"

"Isn't that against the rules?" Craig asked, his eyes widening.

"Well, yeah," Hiram said. "My older brother Lorcan's going along too, he'd be happy to help us get out."

"Um…okay," Craig said, and he followed Hiram back down the stairs…


	3. Chapter 3

Wolf Point was a small metropolis in northern Montana. It was the closest form of civilization to the AWA, which meant that the students could use the Apparition Chambers without attracting too much attention, and if they got stuck in the city, they could always Apparate directly back to the AWA.

Craig followed Hiram down onto the AWA's main grounds. The plateau was sleepy with darkness and starlight. Craig felt a bit out of place – the grounds were open, with few places of concealment. Hiram hurried Craig over to the Apparition Chambers in which they'd arrived at the magic school three months before.

"In here," Hiram said. Craig entered, closely followed by his new friend. The Chambers looked the same as they had before; only, they seemed smaller now that they were not filled with incoming students.

Instead of the crush of youngsters Craig had encountered upon his arrival, he was now greeted by a group of five older students. One approached Hiram. "Hiya, little bro," he said. Then he did a small double take. "You made a friend! Congrats! Wha's your name, fella?"

Craig was a little uncomfortable, but the older kid's smile was as warm as Hiram's had been. "I'm Craig," he said.

"Ah, and I'm Lorcan," said he, and he stuck out his hand. Craig shook it. Lorcan took back his hand, and, still grinning, rubbed it on his side. He looked back at his friends and chuckled.

"This one's got a grip, he does," Lorcan said, and his friends all chuckled. "So…I'm gonna bet you've never been to Wolf Point, now have ya?"

"Uh, no…uh, sir," Craig said, stumbling over his words and blushing.

"Now, there'll be none of that "sir-ing" with me," Lorcan said, clapping a jovial hand on Craig's back. The older boy had meant for it to unseat Craig a little from his stiff position, but Craig didn't budge. "You can save that shit for the Profs and the staff. Out here, we're all equals. Aren't I right, boys?"

The chorus of "yes" from the others (Hiram included) made Craig nervous. Could the staff hear them back at the school? Would they be caught?

"Well, we should probably get going," Lorcan said, observing Craig with a smile. "Before 'e faints."

Chuckling, Lorcan and the others headed for the Chambers. Hiram gestured for Craig to enter one to, and he did.

A moment later, Craig found himself standing, disoriented in an alley.

"Welcome to Wolf Point," Lorcan said, the only other person to remain standing after the transport.

Craig had visited big cities before, even at night. Hell, the night was his time. Still, the lights of Wolf Point, twinkling above the warm, inviting fir trees, seemed more alluring to Craig than had any city he'd seen previously. He moved down the alley to get a better look.

This gave Lorcan an opportunity to draw Hiram aside. "Where'd you find this kid, eh?" he asked.

"He's in a few of my classes," Hiram said. "He seemed lonely."

"I don't know," Lorcan said. "There's something odd about him."

"Well, what do you expect…"

"From the AWA, I know, I know," Lorcan said. "Still, I can't help but feel there's a something more to him."

"Well, I think he's okay," Hiram said. "And they let him in at the school, so he must be one of the good guys, right?"

Finally, a smile returned to Lorcan's otherwise troubled face. "Good, evil…if only things were always so black and white, little brother," he said.

"I think Craig is okay," Hiram said, making a firm stand. "Is that black and white enough for you?"

Lorcan studied his brother a moment. "Aye," he said. "I suppose it is. Well, come along, then."

Lorcan led them all out of the ally and down Main Street.

Craig had seen things like Wolf Point before. Granted, the city was quite beautiful; still, beyond it's beauty was nothing truly new or groundbreaking for the youthful demon killer.

The club to which Lorcan brought the group was another matter altogether.

Craig had never seen or experience anything quite like "Club Z". Upon entering the door, Craig's ears were assaulted with the loud, fast industrial music for which the club was popular. The slightly hazy dance floor reveled snatched glimpses of people moving in ways Craig had never quite imagined. The sights, the smells…it was almost too much.

"Come on! Let's go have some fun, yeah?" Lorcan said.

"Great place, isn't it?" Hiram said, yelling above the din and clutching his Pepsi close to his chest.

"Uh…yeah," Craig said. As soon as his ears had adjusted to the din, he'd begun to enjoy the music. Still, his ears felt like they were under assault, but Craig came to feel that this was part of the fun.

"Seen any good ones yet?" Hiram asked, surveying the crowded, hazy dance floor intently. A stray laser hit him in the face and he flinched at the sudden light.

"Good what?" Craig asked, perplexed. He too looked out at the dance floor, searching for whatever it was Hiram was talking about.

"Ladies, dude, ladies," Hiram said. "Honestly! Are you completely hopeless or what?"

"I'm sorry…" Craig said, receding into himself a bit.

Hiram examined Craig with an incredulous expression. "Lesson number one: don't take me so literally all the time," Hiram said. "I was joking."

"Oh," Craig said. "Okay."

"Sheesh," Hiram said. He gave Craig as deliberate a look as he possibly could. He took the time to annunciate each word to show that he was kidding. "You'd think you were born in a barn."

"Um…uh…" Craig said, searching for a humorous reply. "I…was?" he looked sheepishly at Hiram, who gaped back in disbelief.

"You really _are_ hopeless," Hiram said. He shook his head. "So, do you see any?"

Craig looked back to the dance floor. "Uh…yeah…there are a ton of girls out there."

"Yeah, but do you see any good looking ones?" Hiram asked.

Craig blanked completely. Still, he didn't know just how much more social mishap he could take, so he chose to keep his mouth firmly shut.

"Well?" Hiram asked. He looked back out himself again. "Oh, never mind…got my eye on one now, bud. See you in a bit."

Hiram strode off towards the dance floor, purposefully, leaving Craig standing alone. He surveyed the room and sighed, musing about how he'd ended up in such a foreign place. He sat down, wondering where Lorcan and the others were, and trying not to worry too much or to look too out of place.

Hiram returned a minute later, looking a bit crestfallen. "I got turned down," he said.

For once, Craig knew exactly what to say. He'd heard this from Whistler dozens of times on the hunt. "Better luck next time, buddy," Craig said.

"Yeah…I guess you're right," Hiram said, and Craig beamed. Then he stopped abruptly. The success of this phrase made him wonder how deep the parallel between hunting and attempting to gain the attention of a girl went.

"I'm going to get another drink," Craig said, and stood to do so. However, in a split second, he froze, not moving a muscle. Hiram looked at him, alarmed. "What is it?" Hiram asked him. Craig waved at him to be quiet, which struck Hiram as ridiculous in the noisy club.

Craig looked at the dance floor through narrowed eyes. His nose picked up and he smelled the air. Yes…he'd definitely smelled it right the first time. Now if only he could pinpoint…

There.

"That's a vampire," Craig said, indicating a form across the room. Hiram looked at him quizzically.

"How can you tell?" he asked.

Craig shook his head. "You'll develop a sense for it. For now…just look at how it moves, how it looks…there's something not quite right about it."

Hiram looked at the vampire through the smoky lights of the club. "There's nothing right about how he's dancing," Hiram offered. "He's lousy."

Craig grimaced. "That's not really what I was talking about," he said.

"Yeah, I know," Hiram said. "I just don't see it."

"Takes time to develop a sense for it," Craig said, his eyes never leaving the vampire across the room. "Took me a few months, anyway."

"Uh, okay," Hiram said. "Well…now what?"

"Now, we wait," Craig said, settling up against a back wall.

"What are we waiting for?" Hiram asked, hurrying quickly to get beside Craig and look inconspicuous. In his haste, he managed look quite conspicuous, which made Craig grimace all over again.

"We're waiting for him to make his move," Craig said. "He won't actually bite anyone in here – too many people around – so he'll find someone, probably a girl, and bring her somewhere quiet. Then…"

"It's meal time," Hiram finished.

"Yes," Craig said.

The two waited quietly against the wall of the club for several minutes, watching the vampire dance. Finally, the vampire gestured towards a side door to a girl. Giggling, she followed him.

"That's it," Craig said, pushing off from the wall and propelling himself quickly into the crowd. "Come on! We don't have much time before that girl becomes his dinner."

Hiram hurried to keep up with Craig as they both pushed their way through the crowd to the door. Hiram caught up to Craig just before Craig hit the bar to release the door.

"Wait, wait," Hiram said. "You're going to fight it empty-handed?"

"Nope," Craig said. He withdrew a pair of long, gleaming knives from pockets Hiram hadn't known existed. His eyes widened. Craig cocked his eyebrows as he'd seen Lorcan do, grinned, and pushed the door open.

He and Hiram spilled out into an alley. Craig looked around intently. "There," he said, pointing down the alley to where the vampire was getting ready to feed on the poor girl. "Hey!" Craig yelled. The vampire looked up.

Craig charged him, holding both knives down. He leapt from fifteen feet away and flew through the air, remaining vertical. At the same instant that his feet came into contact with the vampire's chest, Craig plunged both knives deep into the vamp's neck. Craig withdrew both blades quickly, and as the vampire began to fall backwards from the force of Craig hitting him, Craig pushed off it's chest and snapped his right foot up to connect with the vampire's head, severing it from it's body.

Craig flew backward and landed, his right hand extended to maintain his balance, on the ground. The vampire, headless, continued to fall backwards and exploded into dust. A feral grin spread across Craig's face. He turned back to the awestruck Hiram.

"Not bad, huh?"


	4. Chapter 4

Hiram took about a week to get fully accustomed to the story behind Craig's abilities. Craig took to the idea of having a confidant at the AWA better than he'd thought he would; having someone he could talk openly with was more enjoyable than he'd imagined.

One late afternoon several months later, Craig sat with Hiram in the AWA's student center discussing Craig's voices. "Let's see…Mata Hari?" Hiram asked.

Craig considered for a moment. "Nope," he said. "Fiction. She wasn't a spy, or at least, she never told anyone anything of great importance. And she never kissed her executioners, either."

"What about JFK? Were there any other gunmen?" Hiram asked, intrigued.

"No," Craig said, immediately. "Oswald acted alone."

"That was fast," Hiram observed.

"Whistler asked me that one once," Craig said, sheepishly. "When he brought it up, so many other dead people started yelling their heads off that I blacked out for nearly a week."

Hiram looked alarmed. "Are you okay now?" he asked.

Craig nodded hastily. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "They shut up quick, for a wonder."

"Well, I'm floored," Hiram said. "You could just about solve every historical mystery the muggles could think up."

Craig laughed. "I could probably solve a few they couldn't think up, too," he said. "For instance, did you know that Karl Marx was homosexual?"

Hiram's eyes got wide. "Are you…kidding?" he asked, looking as though he were on the verge of hysterical laughter.

Craig shook his head _no_. "Not kidding," he said. "He never told anyone, though. Figured they wouldn't listen to him if they knew he was gay."

Hiram got philosophical. "Too bad they did listen to him," he said. "Just think, Craig – if you'd told the right people that at the right time, you could have used homophobia to stop the Cold War from ever starting."

Now Craig got philosophical too. "Maybe," he said. "But the Cold War just doesn't seem that important anymore – or that world-shattering, I should say. I mean, do you think the enormously powerful magical community would have let the muggles blow the world to kingdom come?"

"How could we have stopped them without revealing ourselves?" Hiram asked.

"They could have managed it," Craig said. He'd been reading his textbooks and was astounded at the things that could be found there. "It may have been a bit of a stretch," he admitted, after a moment under Hiram's skeptical look.

A bell rang. Hiram and Craig both rose to head for their next class; however, the skeptical look remained firmly planted on Hiram's face.

"Would you stop looking at me like that?" Craig asked.

Hiram finally smiled. "Make me," he said.

Craig shook his head in a mixture of sadness and bemusement. "I could, you know," he said.

Hiram bit his lip sheepishly. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I was kinda hoping you wouldn't, really…"

Craig regarded his friend. "I think I'll let you live this time," he said, and, after a second, he broke down laughing.

"What the hell's so funny about that?" Hiram asked.

"If I killed you, I'd have to put up with you up here," Craig said, pointing to his head. "I'd rather just keep you alive…at least you shut up sometimes out here!"

So it was that Craig's first year at the AWA passed. Nothing else of great note occurred during that year; a few more trips to Wolf Point, the general, if bare, passing of classes, and the developing closeness of Craig and Hiram's friendship and trust.

His second year was to contain something a bit more…extreme.


End file.
